


untitled request fill

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Masculinity verse [8]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request Fill: About Vic's new testicles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled request fill

The lotion is sweet-smelling, the Spy’s fingers soft and deft… Strictly speaking, this is above and beyond the aftercare recommendations made by his doctor, but the Spy had told him it would itch like hell to have his hair come back in if he didn’t take extra care of the skin for a while— had told him with the air of a man with a highly interesting story somewhere in his own sexual past— and so here he was, lounging on their hotel bed and letting the Spy massage fancy lotion, not only where they’d shaved him up front before the procedure, but into his balls as well.

Definitely above and beyond anything the doctor had mentioned.

"Think that’s enough yet?" He asks, voice higher than it had naturally been in a long while. 

"I just want to be thorough…" The Spy purrs, and his nose is right there, but a centimeter away from skin still so new it had yet to grow hair, soft and still slick from his ministrations.

"Yeah, well—"

 

"Of course… if you think it is too much trouble, you could just keep them shaved."

"That’s more trouble, isn’t it?" He coughs, surprised by the suggestion. The Spy has always been a… devoted fan, of body hair, after all.

The Spy hums, nuzzling in, his lips passing over sensitive flesh, his nose finding a home at last in the crease of a hip before traveling right back down to the sac.

"Suit yourself. They’re yours." He sighs, before lifting his head to grin up at his lover. "They are. At long last, hm? So how do you feel?"

It’s the fifth time he’s been asked since the surgery at least, but he’s not really sick of it. He can’t be, not when the answer is what it is.

"I feel good. Like myself, but… more. More myself. And I guess I’m not sorry if you want to keep your head down between my legs." He chuckles.

"Not that I was ever unhappy to before, but… I confess, I have missed it a little. Having the weight of another man’s balls in my hand, the little firmness and the softness, and the look of them, the heat… the way the smell of sex clings to the skin there best of all, the taste of the skin. The sounds a man makes when you suck on them…"

"Yeah? Well, I could be interested in that." He raises himself up on his elbows, peering down, past the lazily interested erection flopping against his hip to where the Spy was ready to demonstrate, gladly.

They’re not perfect, but they’re a damn sight closer than he ever thought he’d get to it. He doesn’t understand the science well, though he’d struggled to read even the driest information he could get his hands on. He understands enough, the ‘owner’s manual’ version.

He’ll still need hormones, but far less frequently— he doesn’t produce enough of them on his own, more than the average woman and less than the average man, of testosterone and androgen. What he does produce and what he does inject, though, the new parts regulate a lot better for him, take what he injects and manage to go into some production. There are no more peaks and valleys, no slumps to his energy as he runs low. His hormones stay even in between doses.

And as long as he can do that, he reckons he doesn’t need to know how.

The Spy’s avid enjoyment would be enough, even if the hows had niggled at him, to ignore any questions. The Spy’s tongue laving over the skin, rolling the balls carefully.

There is the uncomfortable prickle of sparse stubble coming in, between cock and navel, and he has to admit, the Spy’s intensive lotion regimen seems to help. The Spy’s mouth, wet and warm, takes his mind off of it. He can’t imagine the lotion tastes as good as it smells, but the Spy doesn’t seem to notice, seems to be completely enraptured by his task.

Even with the energy he has, up since the ‘plenty of rest’ phase of his recovery and with no slumps in sight, the lengthy session of ball-worship the Spy sucks him into is enough to leave him exhausted, when he’s finally allowed to come, and he’s grateful when the Spy grunts and stills a moment, and he feels a spurt, thick and wet-warm as the Spy’s mouth around him had been, against his leg. He’s in no shape to return the favor, and he likes the Spy down where he is, likes the weight of the other man’s head pillowed on his thigh in the afterglow, the hand sliding up to his hip.

After a while, the Spy’s hand cups around him again. There’s no teasing to it, but he can see the Spy’s expression… soft and wondering and just a little protective, at the soft flesh curled in his palm.

"Promise to take real good care of your patient?" He grins, ruffling the Spy’s hair.

"Every inch of you. I want you to be happy."

"Well, I am. We had this talk, it’s a big decision and I’m glad I made it."

"I want you to be happy other ways, too. And with me."

"Well, pet, that was never in question. That’s the longest you’ve had your head down between my legs since the surgery, yeah?"

The Spy laughs. “Was it?”

"Makes sense. Cock’s still a little hair-trigger, every time you touch it it wants to go off. Leave it alone a bit and you actually get some time to mess around."

"I wouldn’t mind trying to break some old records later." He strokes his thumb across the soft skin, feeling the pulse strong beneath, the feeble twitch of interest. "Mm, though that will be tricky, it took a lot to wear you out then. Worth the trade off— I almost gave my tongue a charley horse once, it’s probably better for me you are exhaustable now."

He snorts and tugs the Spy up to lie in his arms. “It’s not weird, is it? I mean, the… the lab-fresh bit of it? And the… I mean, is the… stuff, weird?”

"Cher, yours is not the first shaved crotch I have seen. I’ll have fun getting used to the rest. You were not ‘weird’ to me before and you are not now— but, just as you were unique then, you are unique to me now, for being the man I am set on spending my life with." The Spy reaches down, giving one last friendly little grope before settling into a lazy sprawl across the Sniper’s chest.

"Well. I can definitely live with that, then."


End file.
